


Your Name is Ted Lupin

by MariaWhite



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Dark Arts, Family, Gen, Implied pedophilia, Minor Character Death, Necromancy, Orphans, Resurrection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-06
Updated: 2013-06-06
Packaged: 2017-12-14 02:46:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/831808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MariaWhite/pseuds/MariaWhite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the end, only you yourself know, that your name is Ted Lupin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Name is Ted Lupin

**Author's Note:**

> [I wrote it according to an idea that popped into me in 2009, but I opened my mind up halfway through this and it went to a completely direction compared to the one I originally thought. But I like it, although it has a bleak and dark outlook. It is originally written in Chinese and I translated it into English. Originally I wanted to find a beta but…couldn’t. So I beta’ed it myself, corrected all the mistakes I could find and altered some expressions I used to make it more accurate. I hope you will be able to understand it and like it, because I haven’t written any fanfics in a while and I appreciate the inspiration of this fic. Feel free to tell me if you found any mistakes, and if you like it or have any other suggestions! This is only the second time I have written a fanfic in English so I need your help! Thank you very much!]

Your name is Ted Lupin.  
Ted Remus Lupin.  
But as you grew up, you found that, to the adults, you are never Ted Lupin.  
You are Remus Lupin's son.  
You are Remus Lupin.  
You didn't know why your grandmother was treating you with equal love and hate. But now you know, because you are the flesh and blood of her daughter and the man who took her daughter from her, and caused her love and hate.  
You didn't know why your godfather looked at you, yet his eyes were blank as if not focused on you, but now you know, his eyes were focused on that man, if were alive, you would call "Dad".  
You didn't know why Mrs. Weasley's always crouched down and patted you on the head, and then say "poor little Teddy". But now you know, what they were saying was actually "poor Remus".  
And those strange women.  
Strange women coming from nowhere.  
They would crouch down like Mrs. Weasley's and flood you with favored look, and give you various expensive gifts you would never accept. When you declined their offer they would smile sweetly, "as polite as your daddy" and do various strange things to you.  
You didn't think any normal people would do such disgusting things.  
So you didn't tell anybody about this.  
You hated this with all the hatred a ten-year-old could have: your grandmother's contradicting attitude mingled with love and hate, your godfather's never-focusing-on-you look, Mrs. Weasley's sympathy on you and the strange behavior of those strange women.  
But all in all, who you hated most, was your father.  
You hated him for giving you your life; hated him for leaving you after that; hated him for all those hideous effects his leaving had on your life.  
Giving me my life and leaving, you could only choose one.  
Sometimes you simply can't get two things at the same time.  
You thought in resentment, and pounded your fist in rage and ire.  
You didn't even know which direction you should pound your fist to.  
Everyone said your father was a good man when he was alive, he sacrificed his life for great and noble cause, so he would surely go to heaven.  
But you thought, after doing such cruel things to you, he deserved to be damned.  
You really thought so.  
Thus, every time you cursed your father-which was often-you would pound your fist downwards.

 

Your godfather told you that he saw your father's apparition when he was in the Forbidden Forest then.  
And that he said you would understand-because his death created you a better world.  
Why couldn't you understand that.  
To you, although you didn't know what the world would be like with your father alive, but it must be better than now. Much better.  
No longer unsteadily changing attitude of your grandmother, the indifference of your godfather, sympathy of Mrs. Weasley's and harassment of strange women, this would undoubtably a better world.  
Why didn't this occur to him when he decided to die, you thought, clenching your teeth.  
Maybe it wasn't it that didn't occur to him. It was him who didn't give it a thought. Because he loved those airy and noble causes more than yourself. Which is to say, your father didn't love you at all. You concluded, clenched your fists, and held back the tears threatening to stream down.  
What can crying do.  
If crying could really change anything, you would be more than willing to spend your days in tears.  
But crying doesn't solve these. Your grandmother didn't understand that till today, so she spent her days in tears and thought nobody knew. Actually you have already known everything from her red eyes, tear traces on her apron and her hastily hidden away handkerchief.  
Crying doesn't change the fact that nobody loves you.  
Your godfather.Mrs. Weasley's and those strange women all loved your father. Except your grandmother, who loved your mother.  
While your mother did not love you, either.  
Which did she love more, your father, or those airy noble causes? You didn't know, and this didn't matter. What mattered, was that she did not love you.  
And thus you began to hate her as well.  
You always thought about what you would do if they suddenly appeared before you. Although you thought about yelling loudly at them about why leaving you behind at first, but after a second thought you decided the more pragmatic way was to work out how to keep them with you.  
This way there wouldn't be anything that made your world so miserable anymore.  
You were determined. You must become a necromancer one day.

At Hogwarts you worked hard, and put your whole heart into research, and dug into the restricted area since your first year.  
You graduated with excellent grades and remained at school and took the post of professor of Defense Against Dark Arts, and everyone happily congratulated on you, saying you carried on your father's cause, but only you yourself knew what you were really into.  
In the daytime, you were graceful and humorous professor Lupin; yet at night, you became the Dark Arts maniac who would go to any lengths to achieve your goal.  
No one knew about that other side of you; they all said you were like your father more and more.  
This is correct, and is incorrect.  
That you in the daytime were exactly the same as your father. But you at night... Were like neither your father nor your mother. And this part, was the real you.  
You couldn't have agreed more.

 

In a darkest night, you were wringing your hands in excitement in your own laboratory, because you were about to reach the goal you were dreaming of all these years.  
After one last step.  
You turned the resurrection stone three times in your hand, and waved your wand, and uttered that incantation.  
The incantation you thought would keep your parents with you forever.  
Then your parents appeared in front of you in real flesh, who were smiling widely and lovingly and walking up to you, their figures getting clearer with each step they took forward, and held their arms out to you.  
You almost burst into tears in bliss: not for the reunion to come, but for the nightmare having lasted for thirty-eight years' finally going to cease.  
You walked down to your parents too. Step by step. The resurrection stone and your wand had dropped but you didn't know a thing.  
But their figures still went right through you, you found out in horror. No, it were not them that went through you, but you through them. You and they stared in horror at your body, having become silver white and translucent, becoming thinner and thinner, and disappeared.  
They were back. Back to the world having become better-and more painful to you-because of their departure.  
You were gone. Gone to the world which they went to formerly to create this better-more painful to you- world. And there were no figures of them in that world now as well.  
But what remained the same was, this time there would still be people treating you as Remus Lupin's son, or worse, Remus Lupin himself, your pain wouldn't cease still, and would never cease.  
Your coming-back-to-life parents would reiterate this sad story to the mortal, telling everyone how much you loved them, and everyone said with sympathy that how much this son loved his parents. But only you know, that every one of them were utterly, terribly wrong.  
In the end, only you yourself know, that your name is Ted Lupin.


End file.
